


A Conversation

by sunshinekat



Category: L.A. Noire
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:10:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6523312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinekat/pseuds/sunshinekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILERS FOR THE END OF THE GAME!!</p>
<p>Jack Kelso goes to the cementary and finds Roy there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Conversation

A/N finished L.A Noire, should have seen that ending coming. But watching True Detective prepared me for that one, that is, if you are a detective stay the fuck out of drain tunnels in LA.

Here's the proper summary:

Jack goes to visit Cole’s grave and finds Roy drunk sitting by his grave lamenting.

 

Funerals were for family and friends. Jack Kelso was neither of those things to Cole Phelps. But he’d gone anyway, unwelcome and unwanted by far, it hadn’t stopped him. And now, on the first anniversary of his death, he had a pack of smokes and a flask filled to the brim with whiskey and a one sided conversation on his mind.

But Cole wasn’t alone when Jack arrived. Ranting and raving, and smoking a joint sat Roy Earl; disgraced Ad Vice detective sitting in Jack’s spot.

Jack stopped and observed for a few moments.

“-And the captain suspended me, thanks to you Phelps, you piece of shit.” Roy turned and saw Jack and clammed up, he made to sit up but Jack waved him back down. “Don’t bother, Phelps wouldn’t mind.”

He probably would have. He would have glared at both of them and walked off on his own. He did that kind of thing.

Roy scoffed, “Ah, it’s you. Come to celebrate?”

Jack came closer and uncapped his flask pouring a bit of the liquid on Cole’s grave as a greeting. He sat down in the grass and lit one of the cigarettes he’d brought. “Had some things to say.”

“You get fired too?”

“Nope, just…”

He didn’t finish and Roy didn’t ask.

They missed him.

Roy looked away from Jack before either of them could read the misery in the others face.

“Heard that German of his went right back to being a junkie.” Roy muttered.

“Didn’t last six months.” Jack commented, but boy had she tried. It had been a long way back to the bottom, Elsa had lost her will to live, she didn’t sing any more, didn’t do much of anything. Jack came by once in a while to bring her food, but otherwise she was sitting by her window in a drugged out daze unable to cope with Cole’s death.

“Caught that ex-wife of his at the station last week, trying to get some of his pension.” Roy didn’t even say her name, he sounded angry, bitter as he spoke. “Like he’s just a name on a piece of paper she can put in the bank.”

Jack leaned one shoulder against Cole’s grave, “Even now she’s still giving him shit.”

Roy chuckled, “Leary sent her packing. Crazy broad threw her shoe at him.”

“Did you know him well?” Jack had to ask.

Roy looked surprised, “didn’t you?”

They both laughed at the misery of the whole situation. They had both spent so much time with him and yet in the end neither of them had truly known him. Even now, they couldn’t comprehend him.

Roy had that threat to his life instead of a farewell. Jack had the last six seconds of Cole’s life on his hands. Six seconds he could have used to reach a little lower and take his hand and drag him up and out of that drain. Maybe they could have started again, gotten to know each other better, maybe Elsa wouldn’t be wasting away slowly trying to follow Cole into the ground. So many things would be different now.

When Roy looked at Jack he saw that, and both of them knew that Roy felt the same.

“I feel like I was a better person…when I was around him.” Roy muttered softly, snatching the flask from Jack’s hand. Jack stared after him, surprised. He’d spent so much time trying to one-up Cole he hadn’t actually thought he was a good guy. He’d only ever seeing him as arrogant, foolish, rash but…but never good. He recalled his face in the morning on Sugar Loaf hill. The change was physical, mental and spiritual. The man who left that battlefield was not the same one who so arrogantly demanded glory from war.  The man who left with an honorable discharge wore a medal that would never weigh as much as the lives lost because of him.

“He pissed me off.” Jack said flatly. Roy outright laughed then, and tears sprung out of his blue eyes, he wiped at them quickly, handing Jack the flask. He hid his face in shame.

“It’s always guys like him…” Roy said softly, “Never the ones…never the ones who deserve it.”

Jack didn’t speak after that, he knew what Roy meant.

Just then, in the late evening sun listening to Roy Earl quietly sob, Jack Kelso noticed something that made him smile.

It was a hill.

They’d buried Cole Phelps on a goddamn hill.

  


End file.
